


to love would be an awfully big adventure

by 143 (1432)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1432/pseuds/143
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zitao is madly, foolishly in love and will do anything for Minseok to notice his feelings and stay with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to love would be an awfully big adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I think I may have strayed from the prompt in some ways, but I hope everyone enjoys this. In this fic, the age that one hits full maturity and spurs out on their own is twenty. However, the age of consent is eighteen, so all relationships are perfectly law abiding and appropriate in this world. Also, ear piercings are a sign of class and age, one is received every five years until the age of twenty; the commonfolk have their left ear pierced, people involved with the royal family have their right ear pierced, and the royal family have both ears pierced.

The room is far too warm for early autumn. It's soon becoming too much. A window across the room is open in an attempt to cool off, but there's nothing coming in through the window except the bright colors of the setting sun. And at the front of the room, sitting behind a desk, Minseok is talking.

Minseok is teaching, actually. Teaching to a class of one, reading from a thick, leather bound book that he's holding in his hands. Zitao isn't paying attention at all though. He catches a few words, something about the history of the royal family, but he's too caught up staring at Minseok's mouth, watching his lips shape words.

"Zitao!"

He's suddenly jarred from his thoughts, distracted from his staring. The book is closed in Minseok's hands now and his mouth is set in a straight scowl.

"This is the history of your family, I expect you to pay attention and to remember this." Minseok opens the book again and continues reading.

Minseok is the son of a council member, his parents friends with the King and Queen, Zitao's parents. When they'd met—Zitao at the age of four and Minseok at the age of nine—Zitao thought Minseok looked untouchable. He stood at his father's side, dressed in the finest clothes, his black hair brushed back and half tied back.

Zitao had stared at him, amazed by how mature he looked, how much older he seemed, a gold ring already hanging from his earlobe. Their parents had introduced them and Minseok bowed to him, looking almost indifferent when he stood to his full height.

He thinks it was then that the seed of love was planted square in his chest.

A little less than a year later when Zitao turned five, he received his first piercings. One earring hung in each of his earlobes to show his age and status and he'd shown them proudly at his celebration. He was excited to show Minseok his piercings, so when Minseok and his family stepped up to offer him gifts, he grinned and brought his fingers up to his ears.

That was the first time Minseok really smiled at him, his gums showing. He turned his head and showed off his second piercing just above the first in his right ear.

And, from that night on, they were friends until the gap became too much, too awkward for them to remain friends. Or at least, that's what Zitao's parents told him when he asked why Minseok didn't visit much. The sapling that had only just started growing began to wilt.

Almost ten years later, Minseok returned, his face just as indifferent as it had been when he and Zitao first met. Zitao tucked his fingers behind his ears, drawing attention to the eight piercings up either of his ears and Minseok smiled then, true and genuine.

The wilted sapling suddenly turned green again.

 

 

Minseok is running his finger along the rim of his chalice, distracted and certainly not seeing Zitao's eyes following the movement. He's been silent almost the entire time they've been eating and now that he's done, his gaze remains in one place to Zitao's right side, over his shoulder.

"This is the only year you'll have with me," he says, voice oddly distant. He's still not looking at Zitao, but Zitao is looking at him. Frowning.

"What will you do afterwards?"

Finally, Minseok looks over at him, smiling. Warmth rushes through Zitao, settling in the pit of his stomach.

"I think I'll travel again. Go off deep into the woods. I've never been there before." Zitao is frowning again, reaching to drink wine from his own chalice. Minseok must notice his unhappiness, continuing on, "Maybe you could join me? No one would object to the Prince traveling some before taking the crown."

He's hardly been away from the capital. The last time he travelled, he was fifteen, only a week after he'd received his third set of earrings. A few members of his father's guard had taken him out to let him get a feel for the people of his kingdom. They'd ventured into other cities, visited the people there and stayed the night, had feasts with important families. All had gone well until they decided it would be best to visit some islands that were under their reign. One near death experience caught out in a storm on a boat was enough to curb his interest.

Zitao shakes his head. "I don't think traveling is for me."

"Traveling is for me.” Minseok grins, tipping his chalice up and finishing off the last of the wine. He doesn't reach to refill it. "I was hoping you might accompany me. I’ll miss you."

"You could stay," Zitao suggests, looking up hopefully, determined to make him stay. Across the table from him, though, Minseok is shaking his head, saying he can't.

Zitao smiles.

 

 

Calligraphy is not Zitao's strong suit. He can't get the words to move fluidly, to curl precisely. Instead they look stiff and shaky. Minseok frowns at them and then bends down to show Zitao the correct way, to show how he can do it perfectly. Zitao pouts at him each time and the teacher only flashes him a smile, telling him to try again.

While attempting to write his own name, his wrist locks up, too tense to move correctly and it looks wrong when Zitao lifts his hand to inspect it. Frustrated, he groans loudly and tosses his quill across the wide desk. He watches it fall off the edge.

"Are you a child, Zitao?" Minseok is using his teacher voice, deep and cold, sounding nothing at all like Zitao's friend. Zitao's cheeks heat up at the accusation, though, and he shakes his head as he gets up to retrieve his quill from the floor. "Then I expect you to act your age. Would you like me to look at your calligraphy?"

Zitao nods meekly and Minseok steps around his wide desk, crossing the room to him. He points to the broken writing, and traces the correct path. "These lines should be straight, they should curve only at the ends." His fingers find another line that is jarred. "This should be fluid, it should curve gently outwards as you draw to the right."

Minseok wraps his hand securely around Zitao's and he guides Zitao through the writing. Each line is drawn with care and delicacy, just like Minseok himself.

"There. Practice like that." He says it as if he hadn't already drawn the letters enough for Zitao. "Don't rush it, don't tense up. Let it flow."

He leaves Zitao with his quill in hand—the hawk feather somewhat ruffled—to compete his calligraphy. It helps some, his writing somewhat more fluid, his wrist held less tense.

 

 

A week later, on a whim, he writes out the names of all the cities that fall under his family's reign, from the coast to the deep woods, and when Minseok comes to look over it he points to one.

Zitao raises a brow, "Beylzhen?"

Minseok hums, smiling. He looks like a dream. "Beylzhen is beautiful. They built the city around nature. I hear spring is the best time to go, all green and bright with flowers."

"There's a lot of fairies in Beylzhen," Zitao comments, plugging up his little bottle of ink and cleaning the tip of his quill. "You'd fit right in."

Zitao expects the slap he gets on the back of his head.

 

 

Sun shines into the room through orange and red leaves, lighting up the room with warm colors, and burns Zitao's left arm. He scowls at the line of light settled across only his left forearm, drops it into his lap to escape the heat and, then, he scowls at the equation laid out in front of him.

Suddenly realizing what he should do, he grins and looks up from beneath his lashes. At his desk across the room, Minseok is reading, smiling to himself. He’s careful to drop his mischievous smile before he asks, "Minseok, can you show me how to do this again?"

Distracted from his book, Minseok looks up and hums. Zitao gives him a playful pout that makes him laugh. He takes his time walking over and Zitao watches the way he straightens out his loose jerkin.

"It's very simple Zitao." That's all Zitao hears before Minseok is at his side, leaning over, right in his face, to work out the problem for him. Light shines off the four gold earrings in his right ear and Zitao almost reaches up to trace the curve of Minseok's ear, almost reaches up to tug on one of the hoops.

Minseok turns and looks at him, smiling brightly, but then it falls away and he stands up straight. "I'm going to write up more problems for you."

He pouts, slumping, and Minseok laughs at him when he sits at his desk again, picking up his quill again.

"This is all on you, Zitao."

And Zitao wants to tell him that, really, it's all on him. It's all his fault for wriggling his way into Zitao's heart, his fault for stealing a place there. But he doesn't say that, he just nods, feeling his heart beginning to overflow.

 

 

"Zitao, are you even paying attention?"

He wasn't. His cheeks turn warmer as he bows his head, apologizes, "I'm sorry, Minseok."

Minseok has been reading to him from a book on war strategy. When he had first started, the sun was still up and shining through the window, warming the room. But, now, it's nearly completely dark, only just bright enough to see words written in front of his face. It's cool, cooler than it had been the previous nights that their lessons bled over into the evening.

"What's gotten into you?"

Zitao wants to answer that it's him that's gotten into his heart, but he doesn't say that, he can't say that, but he must say something. He says, "Sorry, there's someone that's been occupying all my thoughts." And that's just as bad. He feels himself turn suddenly too warm in the cool room and something thick swirls in his stomach.

He's not sure if he's going to throw up or cry.

Minseok doesn't say anything about it though, he only stands from his desk and brings the book to Zitao.

"Since you can't focus, I expect you to read the last of this on your own tonight. I will test your knowledge of it tomorrow."

And, just like that, the stern teacher becomes the young man that Zitao knows. Minseok grins, wishing Zitao a good night with a wave.

 

 

They're outside today. It's a lot cooler this year than Zitao remembers it being in earlier years. He straightens his fitted velvet tunic, sliding both his hands down the front of it, stalling, before he reaches for his bow. Minseok gives him a confident smile as he bends down to grab an arrow from the quiver beside his feet.

Standing tall and straight, he settles the arrow along the bowstring and pulls it back toward his cheek. He holds his breath as he aims and, as he exhales, releases the arrow. It cuts through the cool, late autumn air in the blink of an eye. 

It misses the target completely, landing in the dirt just before it.

He looks at Minseok, pouting pitifully.

"Try again," Minseok encourages, nudging his head in the direction of the target.

Zitao inhales as he lines up another arrow and pulls the bowstring back to his cheek. He releases it on an even exhale and watches it hit the very edge of the target.

Minseok is grinning when he looks at him finally, his own shoulders sagging in defeat and his brow wrinkled in frustration. But Minseok doesn't share his bitterness. Instead, he praises, "That's better. Try again."

He does as he's told, does it again and again until his fingers are sore from being held so tightly around the bowstring.

"I can't do it," he says, finally, setting the bow aside and walking toward the target to collect the arrows. He plucks two from the ground in front of the target and three from behind it, pulling the rest from the target itself. He sighs in disappointment for each arrow not in the center.

When he starts back, an arrow sails past his head and he stops in place, for a second believing he's dead, and then he shakes the feeling off, turns to look at the target. There's an arrow lodged perfectly in the center and he turns back to look at Minseok holding his bow.

"Are you mad?" He asks, partially hysterical. "What if you had hit me?"

Minseok laughs, placing the bow back where it had been.

"I wouldn't have."

Zitao furrows his brows as he sizes him up, looks him up and down, before averting his gaze to the ground.

"You are insane,” he states plainly. Minseok laughs.

 

 

"Are you still chasing after Minseok?"

Zitao flushes and hides his face in his hands. "Yes."

Lu Han smiles at him, because he understands. Zitao remembers when Lu Han and Minseok had been together, always as close as possible, attached at the hip. But they'd parted when Minseok first left to travel. Yet they would come back together easily each time Minseok returned until Lu Han and Sehun got close.

But Sehun doesn't understand, he's never loved Minseok, so he laughs from where he's pressed against Lu Han's side. Lu Han smacks him on the butt, scowls at him, and he whines, but he stops laughing.

Sehun stretches to wrap an arm around Lu Han's waist. "Have you told him that you want to be between his thighs?"

The pink in Zitao's cheeks quickly turns red and he reaches for the bottle of wine on the table between them, pours more for himself and drinks it down without his lips parting from the cup once.

"I've not drank enough to talk about this." He pours more wine and begins to sip it. "And I don't just want to be between his thighs."

He's as red as the wine he's drinking.

Lu Han is a lot calmer through this, he doesn't scold Sehun for being so straightforward, for being so inappropriate with young Taozi. He combs his fingers through the knots in Sehun's long hair, looking into the far corner of the room until he's gathered his thoughts.

"We know you don't Zitao. Have you told him you have feelings for him though?"

And Zitao thinks, yes, he has, and Minseok had said nothing of it and he had been mortified. He shrugs.

"A little."

Sehun's face twists and he opens his mouth to say something, but Lu Han tugs his hair in warning.

"Don't act like a little boy, just tell him."

"But how? Lu Han, tell me," he asks, his tone pleading. Lu Han gives him a sympathetic look, but he doesn't saying anything because there's nothing he can say. "He's so strong and vibrant, so beautiful. And I'm just me, quiet and shy, I could never tell him how I feel."

Lu Han gives him this look that Zitao can't read at all and promises he will one day.

 

 

The next time Zitao has an archery lesson, Lu Han and Sehun seek them out and sit atop the nearest tying post by their horses. He shoots another arrows and misses the target, not by much, but he misses and Sehun laughs at him from where he sits.

"It's alright, Zitao, you are getting better," Minseok says, smiling at him. He shoots a scowl at Sehun, though.

Minseok takes his own bow and positions himself, pulling the bowstring back until his fingers are even with his cheek. He takes in a big breath and Zitao watches his strong shoulders rise and fall. Before Minseok releases the bowstring, though, he twists sharply and releases the arrow into the tying post beside Sehun and he topples backwards into the dirt.

Lu Han laughs, sliding down from the post to calm their startled horses.

"Come on, Sehun. I think we should leave these two alone."

The younger boy picks himself up off the ground and slides his palms down his sides, brushing dust off his expensive clothes. "Aren't you going to say anything, Lu Han?"

Lu Han swings his leg over his horse's back and settles in his saddle, looking down at Sehun.

"You needed to be taught a lesson."

Zitao laughs at them, ducking so he can hide his face against Minseok's shoulder, his arms wrapped around his middle. He hears them ride away, Sehun shouting at Lu Han, and he stands up once his laughter has calmed to quiet chuckles. And he's shocked when he does because Minseok is looking at him, smiling fondly, so close that Zitao blushes brightly and steps back.

"Do you... uhh. Are you hungry?" He wants to stop himself from talking, but his mouth keeps moving. "I am. Do you want to take a break now?"

"Yes. Let's go, Zitao."

 

 

The weather is turning colder everyday, but that doesn't stop Minseok from leaving the upper laces of his jerkin open. Zitao catches glimpses of his sharp collarbones and he's pretty sure that with each little peek he loses a piece of his sanity. He's going mad.

He tries to focus on Minseok's teaching, tries to listen to his words on some great philosopher, but he can't. All he can think about is the sight of Minseok's chest and the way he wants to touch it, wants to feel his chest rise as he breathes.

"I take it you think it will be alright to be a king with an empty head? Do you think your father sits around staring into space all the time?" That tone is different; he actually hears Minseok say it. His own face pinches in disagreement as he shakes his head. He knows for a fact that what his father does is tough work, he has to think not only of himself and his family, but his kingdom.

"You need to know everything that I teach you. You need to know philosophy and mathematics and war tactics. You need to know the workings of ruling a kingdom, archery and tracking, hunting. None is less important than the other because important things are expected of you."

Zitao is panicking. He dislikes being scolded, he has since he was a small child, but it's even worse when it is Minseok that's scolding him.

"I am distracted because of you."

Minseok smiles, fondly, gently.

"You need to know these things, though. Focus on your studies, Zitao." Something heavy and sick settles in Zitao's stomach and he's almost positive that he's going to cry. That was all the rejection he needed. Everything is off now and Minseok stands from the desk, giving him the same pitying smile. "Let's retire early."

Zitao returns to his room and cries.

 

 

The next day, when a maid comes to wake him for his lessons, he asks her to tell Minseok that he's fallen ill and will return after a few days rest.

Lu Han comes by later, carrying a tray of food that he surely took from a maid and Sehun follows behind. Smugly smirking and bumping into Lu Han, Sehun points out that Zitao isn't actually ill, but merely saying that to get out of lessons.

"So why are you lying here instead of gawking at Minseok?"

"Because I told him how I felt and he rejected me."

Lu Han gives him the same pitying smile that Minseok had, tilting his head slightly. Zitao hates it.

Behind Lu Han, Sehun gives him a grin and reasons, "Well, there's an entire kingdom of people that are willing to throw themselves at you."

Zitao sits up and looks at Sehun, narrowing his eyes. "One more time and I’ll ban you from entering the palace."

After that, Sehun quiets down and sits on the edge of the bed, looking apologetic, and he reaches to squeeze Zitao's knee comfortingly.

 

 

A few days later, when he returns to his lessons, Minseok acts as if nothing happened. He gives Zitao a big smile, warm and happy and confident. Zitao tries to return it, but he can hardly manage. Zitao wants to stay far away from him, in hopes of keeping his concentration, but Minseok sits across from Zitao with his hands folded atop one another.

His shirt is tied closed in a knot today. Zitao is thankful.

"Let's continue discussing philosophy."

"Yes, let's."

 

 

When he looks past the initial hurt of being brushed aside so carelessly, it doesn't hurt as badly and doesn't seem like a real rejection. He tells himself that it wasn't a rejection because what he said wasn't a confession. So he continues on and works harder on his studies, catches himself when his eyes wander to follow the curve of Minseok's collarbone or watch his mouth as he talks.

The winter is easy. The first snow comes near the end of the year and Minseok gives Zitao the day off so he can go running through it like he's still a child. Sehun joins him and Lu Han stands off the side, ignoring the stray ball of snow that hits his right cheek.

When their fingers are bright red and numbed by the freezing snow, they retreat inside and warm themselves up in front of the fire in Zitao's room.

"How have your lessons with Minseok been?" Lu Han asks, sipping on his tea.

"They're going well. I'm less distracted." He knows that isn't what either Lu Han or Sehun wanted to know, so he turns his eyes back to the fire. "I've decided that he didn't reject me because I didn't actually confess to him."

Lu Han sighs and sets his tea aside.

"Are you sure, Zitao?"

He nods, smiling confidently.

 

 

They soon wrap up their lessons on philosophy and Minseok passes along a thick book on the documented wars and the tactics that won each of them. It's nothing that Zitao enjoys reading, he would much rather be in bed reading of soft kisses and true love. He says as much to Minseok and he raises a brow at Zitao.

"Reading of romance and soft kisses is a waste of your time. You'll have plenty of that in years to come."

Zitao frowns at him and twists his face up in the most unattractive way he can. Minseok gives him this sweet smile, this fond look, and it makes Zitao heat up, makes him press his nose back into the book.

 

 

"We've hardly spent any time together." Zitao pouts, tugging at Minseok's sleeve. The tutor bats away Zitao's hand, but then takes it in his own, doesn't let it go. Zitao looks at his feet, hiding a flush.

"We've spent almost every day together for months now."

Zitao's pout becomes more petulant, his bottom lip pushed out like a child's.

"That’s when you’re being Minseok the Tutor. I miss Minseok the Friend."

Minseok stands up on his toes and slings an arm across Zitao's shoulders, pulling Zitao in so close he can feel Minseok's breath on his face. It's so close that if Zitao was more confident, he'd lean in and give Minseok a shy kiss on the lips. Minseok is smiling, though, fond and warm, his eyes narrow with mirth.

"Come by my room later. We can stay up late into the night and drink wine."

 

 

Zitao walks the corridors quietly, holding two full jugs of wine, perfectly prepared for whatever lies on the other side of Minseok's door.

It's organized, little trinkets here and there; beautiful handstitched embroidery hanging about and jewelry and custom clothing from each culture he's visited. Yet he isn't at all prepared to see Minseok; his shirt hangs loose on his shoulders, cut low to reveal the smooth skin of his chest, showing off his collarbones. He grins and welcomes Zitao in.

"What kind of wine did you bring for us?"

Zitao holds up a jug and smiles. "Blueberry."

Minseok takes one of the jugs from him and sips from it, humming and smiling. He must spot Zitao looking around because he takes the second jug and sets it aside.

"Feel free to look around."

Zitao walks to the left, to the desk pressed against the wall and finds a jewelry box on top of it. He carefully opens it to look at it all beautifully displayed. There are several lines of earrings, some that are simple hoops and some with jewels hanging from thin, delicate chains. He lifts one up and turns to face Minseok.

"Why do you never wear any of these?"

Minseok grins at him, taking another sip of wine.

"Would you like it if I wore it?"

"I would like it very much."

"Then I'll wear it."

Smiling smugly, Zitao moves on to something else, satisfied. A painting hangs above the mantle. Iit shows a celebration, people dressed extravagantly with robes of many colors, the lines of their bodies visible beneath.

"That's the celebration of spring in Aicanzi. I celebrated with them. Drank too much." Minseok walks across the room and sits on his bed, leaning back casually. "There are many beautiful men and women in Aicanzi."

Zitao frowns at the implication and Minseok laughs at him, bringing the wine back to his lips; they're already starting to tint darker, slightly purple.

Bright blues and greens catch his eye, and he hurries a few steps across the room, straight to the wall of shelves, his eyes alight with curiosity that's almost childlike. "Where did you get this?" Zitao lifts up the intricate piece of embroidery, gently touches the rich colors that make out the waves of the ocean.

"I bought it in Amaroune."

Zitao nods because it makes sense for such beautiful imagery of the sea to be crafted along the seaside. With careful hands, he sets it down on the shelf where it had been propped up, greeting all that might walk into the room.

"It's beautiful."

He moves on to the books. All beautiful and leather bound, the pages treated with care. When he lifts one up and opens it, the first word he sees is beautiful calligraphy stating that all works inside are romantic.

He smirks and looks over his shoulder at Minseok, seeing him leaning back, braced on one arm. But he remembers the words he'd given as a tutor only a few weeks before.

"I thought you said reading of romance and soft kisses was a waste of time?"

Minseok matches his smirk and takes a big gulp of wine.

"I said reading of romance and soft kisses was a waste of your time. I said nothing of my own time."

Zitao wants the confidence to go over and hug him, to maybe kiss him on the crown of his head. But he stays firmly rooted in place, flitting through the poems and sonnets before replacing it on the shelf.

He joins Minseok on the bed, drinking wine from his own jug while Minseok tells him of all the places he's been and all the things he's done. Hearing Minseok talk like this, of far off adventures, makes Zitao feel suddenly more adventurous himself.

 

 

By the time they finish the jugs of wine, they're both fairly drunk; Zitao's cheeks are rosier than normal and Minseok giggles like a child. Minseok's recalling stories of the spring festival he visited when he was in Aicanzi. He suddenly stops talking and leans back, looks Zitao up and down.

"What did you do while I was away?"

Zitao grins, chuckles. "I grew up, did my studies to the best of my abilities, mastered the use of the sword and staff, annoyed all my tutors."

Minseok narrows his eyes playfully, purses his lips.

"You're telling me that no girls or boys came chasing after you?"

Zitao's face is suddenly hot and he's sure it's not just from the wine. He wishes he had brought more of it now. "No one really took interest. Sehun says my face is too scary for a girl to put up with and that a boy would always be intimidated by my status."

Minseok makes a face and shakes his head and Zitao smiles at him.

"I don't think your face is scary. You're handsome."

"Really?"

Minseok nods, smiling softly, and Zitao is almost positive that his face has become even redder than before.

He feels a sudden build of confidence in his chest and he knows he has to hurry before it fades, so he reaches out and takes Minseok's cheeks in his hands. They're very soft, possibly softer than he ever imagined they would be, but he doesn't let himself get caught up. He leans forward and kisses Minseok and he feels Minseok's lips press very gently against his own.

It's sweet and perfect, everything Zitao has ever wanted his first kiss. But then the tutor is pressing his hands against Zitao's chest.

Minseok pushes him away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Zitao," Minseok says, his voice oddly strained with so much emotion. He sounds suddenly weak and Zitao doesn't know how to feel about it. "Zitao, I don't think it would be... appropriate... for me to continue on as your tutor. I will inform your father when he rises."

He stands up and crosses the room, puts a distance between himself and Zitao that makes Zitao want to curl up and cry. Still not raising his eyes, he glances out the window, down and then up.

"Please, go back to your room now," Minseok says.

 

 

Minseok, and all of his things except one earring, are gone the next morning. Zitao cries in bed all day.

 

 

Several days later, the King and Queen find him another tutor. It takes a talk from both of them and Lu Han to get him out of bed.

"It hurts right now, I know—really, I do," Lu Han says as he brushes Zitao's long, silver hair into order. "But it'll go away. And lying in bed won't make it go away any faster."

Zitao knows that Lu Han is right and he knows that Lu Han does understand what it feels like, but it still doesn't make Zitao feel better. He looks ahead as Lu Han combs his hair back and ties half of it up to keep it out of his eyes.

Before Lu Han leaves he pulls Zitao onto his feet and hugs him and Zitao sags against him, welcoming the affection. He gives Zitao a confident smile when they part and he carefully brushes flyaway hairs from Zitao forehead. It's almost motherly.

"You're going to be fine."

 

 

The new tutor is old. Very old. Zitao isn't even sure how he manages to get out of bed because he wobbles every time he tries to move. His style of teaching is old and boring and there's no shared lunches between them like their had been when Minseok was his tutor.

And he still has trouble concentrating.

 

 

It's Lu Han that takes over as his tutor for weapons. Lu Han patiently observes his skills with a bow and arrow and then joins Zitao with his staff, spars with him until they finally call for a truce because Sehun is bored of watching them.

(Lu Han places the staff at the small of Sehun's back and uses it to reel him in, they kiss and Zitao jokingly asks Sehun if he's still bored of the staffs. Sehun blushes and dips his head to hide it in Lu Han's neck.)

 

 

The winter passes by quickly. It probably passes by that way because Zitao hardly ever does anything anymore. He finishes his lessons and then goes back to his room, washes up and dresses for bed and sleeps.

Lu Han and Sehun are often in his room, though, just before he sleeps. They'll join him with sweets, pies and cakes, hard honey candies that Sehun fills his cheeks with. And, when all the sweets are gone, Lu Han and Sehun join him in bed until they're both fighting to keep their eyes open.

One night, Sehun falls asleep and Lu Han doesn't bother to wake him up. Instead, he and Zitao sit in silence, merely enjoying each other's presence.

But Zitao breaks the quiet, asks, "Have you heard from Minseok?"

He knows they're friends, knows that Minseok often keeps in touch with Lu Han, knows Minseok's sent Lu Han letters before. Lu Han presses his lips together.

"Yes," Lu Han admits, finally, still hesitant as he drags the word out. "He sent me a letter. The last I heard he was in Alresal."

Zitao frowns because that's so far away. Lu Han brushes his fingers through Zitao's hair and gives him a pitying smile that makes Zitao's chest hurt.

"Did he say he would be returning soon?"

Lu Han doesn't say anything, his sad smile falls away and he shakes his head.

"Let's just sleep," Zitao decides as he curls against Sehun's back. Sehun presses back against him and there's something healing about the contact that makes him hold on tighter.

 

 

The spring comes back in bright color and new life, but Zitao is left feeling like the same man he was the spring before.

Lu Han and Sehun drag him out after the flowers are in full bloom, they drag him out to the stable where his horse is waiting, already saddled, and he can't refuse them. They ride out into the woods and don't stop until they're in a big meadow, until they're standing on a blanket of bright green and soft blue.

Sehun and Zitao sit amongst the flowers, talking to each other about what it'll be like once Zitao is of age and officially the Crown Prince. And, off to the side, Lu Han draws them in a small leather book, charcoal clutched tightly in his hand.

And this is familiar, but new. And he can feel himself beginning to mend, can feel the two halves of his heart coming back together.

"Remember when we used to sneak off together and play with each here?"

Zitao does remember. He remembers how silly they'd been in their younger years, how embarrassing and he groans, falls back into the flowers. But he smiles.

"Yeah, and I remember the King and Queen sending me out to look for little prince Zitao and his wild friend," Lu Han adds, not looking up at them, but adding to his drawings. Sehun crawls on his hands and knees to Lu Han and presses a kiss to his cheek, asking him if he's forgiven them.

Lu Han pushes Sehun away into the wildflowers.

"Yes, I have, you pest."

Sehun snags Lu Han's hand before he can go back to drawing and kisses the back of it. Zitao envies them.

Zitao remembers that too. He remembers Lu Han and Minseok coming for them, remembers the way Minseok had looked on his tall horse, his hair loose and hanging in his eyes.

As the sun begins to set, they hurry along the trail out of the meadow and back into the heart of the city, into the royal stables. They ask Zitao if he wants them to join him inside. But he sends them away when he catches Sehun mouthing along the row of piercings up Lu Han's right ear when they think he's not looking.

Zitao envies them.

 

 

The celebration of Zitao turning twenty is beyond extravagant. Guests come from far from the capital city bearing gifts and bright smiles and he thanks each one as they hand over gifts he doesn't need. Each guest gives him a smile and he flashes a shy smile of his own.

He hasn't heard anything about Minseok coming back, Lu Han hadn't said a word to him, yet here he is, looking at Minseok from across a crowded room. There's a guest in front of Zitao, they're babbling congratulations and well wishes and he mumbles an apology as he steps down and into the crowd of people.

Minseok doesn't move, stays in the far corner until Zitao is standing in front of him. He smiles very gently and there's something about him that seems apologetic. Without a word, Minseok holds out a folded handkerchief and Zitao takes it, unfolds it to reveal a ring. It's very beautiful, the stone a soft purple. He slips it onto his finger and Minseok begins to walk away, smiling.

Zitao grabs Minseok by the arm, steps close and dips his head.

"Meet me tonight in the rose garden."

Minseok doesn't say a word, nods once firmly.

He leaves after that and Zitao hurries off to find Lu Han so he can press his face in Lu Han's shoulder and ask why he hadn't said anything about Minseok returning. Lu Han gathers him up in his arms and hugs him firmly.

"I didn't know if he'd be coming here or not. Did you speak to him?"

Zitao nods. "He gave me this ring and left."

Lu Han frowns at him and touches his cheek gently. That's his apology, but there's nothing for him to be sorry over yet. Zitao gives Lu Han a smile and that seems to confuse Lu Han, but he doesn't ask about it.

He dances the night away after that, with girls that blush when he compliments their beauty and with boys that let him lead and lower their lashes seductively. And it's all very nice, he enjoys every one of them equally, but he can't stop thinking of Minseok.

 

 

Zitao doesn't return to his room to remove his leather armor, he leaves it on because it'll hide the shake of his shoulders should his nerves get the best of him. The armor makes him feel stronger too. So he leaves it on, the buckles closed tight over his chest, protecting his heart.

The rose gardens are dense and a little wild, closed to the people that don't have access to the castle. There are roses of all colors and Zitao remembers when he used to come here to admire all the colors, used to pick petals from some of the roses, making wishes on them and letting them flutter into the wind.

He's not a child anymore, so he doesn't linger to look around and pick the perfect flower to wish on.

He finds Minseok somewhere near the middle where the dark red roses bloom. The air is sweet and Zitao watches Minseok lean down to test the scent of the flower. Zitao suspects that he's ignoring Zitao purposely, waiting for Zitao to make the first move.

He pulls up all the courage he can find in himself and moulds it around his heart before whispering, "Minseok."

Minseok freezes and then stands up straight.

"The gardens are blooming beautifully this year," he comments and Zitao purses his lips annoyed that he's avoiding the subject.

"They are, but that's not why I told you to meet me here."

"Talk to me, then, Crown Prince Zitao."

Zitao walks closer to him until he can see Minseok's face clearly in the dim moonlight. The moon is full above them.

"Why did you leave?"

Minseok's cool smile fades slowly into a frown and he looks down at the ground, shifts awkwardly; something in Zitao warms at the sight. He looks up with the same frown on his face.

"I left because it was not right of me to kiss you. I was your tutor and you, my student. I was to teach you how to be a strong king, not how to kiss."

"But I wanted you to kiss me."

"It was highly inappropriate of me." Minseok looks down at his feet again.

Zitao takes a step back and sighs. He stands up to his full height and then gives Minseok a firm shove, his hands on Minseok's chest. Minseok stumbles backward, but he steadies himself by the time Zitao takes a step forward, does it again and again and again.

"I hate you," Zitao says, trying with all that's in him to make it sound true. It still doesn't.

When Minseok looks back up Zitao wants to look away because he's becoming too upset, tears rolling into his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry that you do."

Zitao is angry again. He's angry because Minseok acts like he doesn't care at all. He shoves Minseok again, feeling the silk of Minseok's shirt slide against his hands.

Minseok catches Zitao's wrists when he goes to push him again. He holds Zitao firmly, but Zitao knows he could easily pull his hands free and push Minseok back into the nearest rose bush.

With his eyes closed, Minseok whispers, "Stop."

And Zitao can't even attempt to fight out of his hold.

"Minseok." His voice is very quiet again, hardly even audible. Minseok opens his eyes, though, he opens his eyes and really looks at Zitao.

They both lean in, but it's Zitao that does most of it. He kisses Minseok hard, doesn't care about it being pretty or sweet, and Minseok gasps into his mouth and lets go of his wrists.

It's Minseok that bites at his bottom lip, though, Minseok that traces the shape of his lips with his tongue, Minseok that coaxes him closer, holds him tenderly. And it's Minseok that leans away, holding Zitao's face in his hands still and he whispers it over and over; I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have run away."

"No, you shouldn't have. Kiss me again."

Minseok does kiss him, lowers one of his hands to find Zitao's. Something warm builds very quickly low in Zitao's stomach, making him raise his free hand and pull Minseok closer, his fingers trying to grab onto slick silk. He craves the closeness.

Minseok leans away from him and Zitao gives him a tug, whines.

"Calm down, Zitao," Minseok whispers to him. And it's hard to calm down when he's feeling so greedy, but he closes his eyes so he can't see Minseok looking up from beneath his lashes, breathes deeply until he can open them again without his knees going weak.

"I can't, I love you."

Minseok doesn't say anything, doesn't move, doesn't blink or breathe. "You—You can't mean that. You're not old enough, not experienced enough to know real love."

That sparks some kind of anger in Zitao and he grabs Minseok by his shoulders, gives him a shake.

"If I don't love you, why are you all that's on my mind? Why would I do anything—even die—for you? Why, out of all men and women in the world, are you the only one I want?"

Minseok slides his thumb back along Zitao's cheekbone, follows it up around his brow.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm still running."

"Running is alright. But run with me instead."

Minseok brings Zitao in for another kiss, a hand on the back of his neck, one hand sliding down his chest, fingers catching on the buckles of Zitao's armor. Something lodges free in Zitao's chest and he moans as Minseok's teeth catch his bottom lip.

 

 

Minseok doesn't come back to see Zitao as soon as Zitao would have liked. But he asked Zitao to go riding with him and Zitao is eager to get up and put on his riding clothes to join him.

They share a brief kiss and holds hands as they leave the palace for the stable and only part once their horses are saddled and ready to ride.

Their ride takes them off into the woods, where they playfully race, laughing and talking until they reach the meadow. It's still covered in bright flowers and Zitao dismounts and falls down into the flowers, leaving his horse to graze. Minseok joins him on the ground, sitting among the flowers and smiles at Zitao.

"You've always loved this place, haven't you?"

Zitao answers in a nod and rolls onto his side, letting his eyes fall closed at peace here in the meadow.

Minseok strokes Zitao's hair with one hand and with the other, he plucks pale purple flowers from all around them and pushes them into Zitao's hair. The pale purple looks beautiful against the silver, complimenting it. Zitao cracks his eyes open and looks up at Minseok, smiling.

"Enjoying yourself there?"

"I am. Are you, my Prince?"

Zitao catches Minseok's hand and brings it to his mouth, kisses his knuckle lightly.

"I am."

Minseok silently continues to add more flowers, adds them in rows leading down Zitao's hair. There's too many to count, overlapped, and there's a bare place around them, when Minseok is finished. He smiles, proudly, fondly, and Zitao sits up so they can kiss.

 

 

"So you've finally got your Minseok," Sehun marvels, stretching out on the chaise against Lu Han. Lu Han smiles at Sehun, kisses the top of his head and then raises his smile to Zitao. This time, Zitao doesn't feel envious of them.

"I have."

Lu Han lets his head fall back against the many pillows and sighs almost wistfully.

"My little Taozi is all grown up."

Sehun gives him a considering look that makes Zitao narrow his eyes, tilt his head playfully. Then he's grinning and elbowing Lu Han in the ribs gently, tilting his head to look up at Lu Han.

"Not quite grown up."

Zitao's face goes very red and he hides his face in his hands, laughing at Sehun and himself. He's smirking when he raises his head. "Sorry I don't let my legs fall open the moment someone takes interest."

Sehun's smile falls into a playful scowl.

"Bravo."

 

 

Minseok is looking at him over the rim of his chalice, eyebrows drawn in the slightest bit. He's thinking, Zitao knows that after all these years what that face means. When the wine is gone, Minseok is still looking at him with his eyebrows in and eyes narrowed, his head tilted to the right.

"What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking of what it would be like to take you travelling. There are so many beautiful places in the world," he says, grinning, looking up at the ceiling now.

Zitao pours Minseok more wine, gives him a small smile. His head is swimming a little from the wine.

"I could take you to Aicanzi and we could participate in the spring celebrations. I could buy you some of the native robes, the material so thin and delicate you can see through it." Zitao stands up and walks around to the chaise that Minseok is sitting on. He straddles Minseok, arms on his shoulders, pulling him in closer for a kiss.

They've had too much to drink. Zitao feels far too warm and he can feel the heat coming off Minseok too. It's smothering, but Zitao has never refused a kiss.

Minseok stops him, though, when he's sliding his hand up Minseok's jerkin, feeling over smooth and too warm skin.

"We should stop, Lu Han and his lover will be here soon."

A few raps on the wall have them looking over to the door, seeing Lu Han standing there with Sehun draped over his back. They both grin, Sehun with a brow raised. "Lu Han and his lover are here now."

Zitao climbs out of Minseok's lap, taking a seat beside him and grinning like they hadn't just been caught kissing. Neither Lu Han or Sehun seem to mind, they go and sit on the chaise opposite Zitao and Minseok, Sehun settling in front of Lu Han as always.

"When do we eat?"

Minseok stands up and starts toward the door to fetch a servant and Zitao watches him as he walks. Zitao purposely doesn't look over at Lu Han or Sehun because he knows he'll get see a waggle of brows.

He returns and shortly after several servants come in carrying platters of meat and they all eat together.

"Minseok was speaking of taking me on his next trip to Aicanzi for the spring festival. Maybe you could join us?"

Zitao is shocked when Lu Han chokes on his wine, some of it spilling down his chin and onto his clothes. At his side, Minseok laughs. He looks between them, confused, not sure what he said to merit those reactions.

"The spring festivals of Aicanzi are hardly more than an orgy."

Zitao realizes then and his face heats up and he joins them in their laughter.

Lu Han looks over at Minseok and narrows his eyes playfully. "What exactly are your intentions with my little Taozi, Minseok?"

"I'm sure I don't have to explain it to you, Lu Han."

They all laugh, Sehun hiding his face against Lu Han's shoulder. Minseok still takes bites of food between bouts of hard laughter, sipping his wine while the rest of them continue to laugh.

 

 

Zitao clutches his staff tightly in his hands, glancing from Sehun's face to his hands. He's nervous, Zitao can tell by the way he adjusts his grip a few times before finally looking up at Zitao.

"Ready?"

"Give me your worst, Crown Prince." Sehun's being playful, playing it up for all the people around, so Zitao decides he won't give Sehun his worst, but a notch lower than his worst.

He starts with something light, takes a step forward and strikes out at Sehun. Sehun blocks with his staff held out with both hands like Zitao thought he would. They share a little smile and Sehun gives Zitao a push back. The next strike is not as light and Sehun catches Zitao's staff with his hand, hissing quietly.

Grinning, Zitao takes a step back and gives the staff a quick spin in his hands. Sitting on the fence of the practice range, Minseok smiles, his gums showing.

"Zitao, you can look at Minseok later," Sehun says, placing both hands on his staff again.

Zitao goes in for him quickly, lands a hit on his side and then his knee. With one swipe of his staff, he pulls Sehun's legs from beneath him and Sehun lands on his butt, face pinched. Minseok and Lu Han clap and cheer for him and he places his staff in front of his body, bows at them.

"Come on, show off."

Sehun picks himself up off the ground and pushes his long fringe from his eyes, tucks it behind his ear.

They spar a total of six times and Sehun only wins the last spar because Minseok distracting Zitao by shedding his jerkin, leaving him in only a thin sleeveless tunic. Sehun clutches his sides and pouts pitifully as he walks to Lu Han, receiving a series of soft kisses on his face.

Minseok hops down off the top bar of the fence and he brings Zitao in for a kiss. It's a deep kiss, one that makes Zitao's insides knot up. He holds Zitao's jaw, guides him into the tilt.

"You look really good in your leather armor," Minseok whispers against Zitao's mouth, dragging his fingers down the buckles. And he gives Zitao this look that makes Zitao feel weak and small and hot all over.

Zitao pretends he heard nothing more than a compliment in those words, though. He looks down at himself and smiles. "Thank you. It was a gift from my parents."

Minseok looks down at the armor and slides his palm across left side of Zitao's chest. "They chose very well."

"There's only one problem. It's difficult to take off."

Minseok stills, staring down at the rich brown leather. When he finally looks up at Zitao again, he's smiling.

"Maybe I could help you take it off then?"

"Not today. Not when I'm in great need of a bath.”

Minseok frowns at him.

 

 

It's a week later that the memory of his sparring with Sehun comes back to him and it brings with it a wave of want. He returns to his room and has his maids draw him a bath and put his most sweet smelling oils in it.

He scrubs himself clean, scrubs himself sweet.

Afterwards, he sits in front of the wide window in his room and lets the sun dry him. He leaves his hair down, combed back, but not tied up from his face. And he carefully redresses, puts on a clean jerkin and trousers, fits his armor around himself and buckles it loosely.

“Please, fetch me Kim Minseok. Let him know that I would very much like to spend some time with him,” Zitao says, blushing the entire time, whispering the entire time. The maid there is an older woman and she coos over his bashfulness momentarily, before hurrying off.

Until there's a knock at his door, Zitao paces, fidgets with his hands. He considers calling it off, thinks maybe it's too soon.

But then there's a knock at his door and the want returns, rushes through his veins. He answers the door and Minseok smiles at him, steps in for a hug, but he stops when he notices Zitao's armor.

“I thought you wanted to spend some time with me?”

“I do. I was thinking I might ask Sehun out to spar again afterwards.”

Minseok raises a brow, possibly, probably, seeing right through. “Ah, are you now?”

Zitao dips his head for a kiss and Minseok gladly meets him halfway. Minseok holds his face tenderly, strokes his cheek.

“What are you doing, Zitao?”

“I don't know,” he admits, because he truly doesn't know what he's doing.

Zitao looks down and watches Minseok's short fingers feel over the straps of his leather armor. They go to the edges of the top buckle and Minseok gives him a look that he only just barely catches before Minseok is looking back down and raising his other hand to work on the buckle. He carefully pulls it from where it's tucked and guides it from the metal, flattening it out when it's undone and then moving on to the next.

Zitao's not breathing, but Minseok doesn't seem to be either.

Another buckle and Zitao tenses further. He can feel his legs beginning to go numb. His armor is loose around the upper area of his chest and he exhales, his breath shaking even when he manages to drag in another. Minseok stops and looks up at him, palms pressed flat to his sternum.

"Are you nervous?"

Even though he thinks he should in this moment, Zitao won't lie to him, so he nods. And Minseok looks a little crestfallen.

"Do you want to stop?" His hands slide up on top of Zitao's shoulders, squeeze them hard enough for Zitao to feel it.

"No!" Zitao's face burns at his own eager outburst, but he doesn't look away from Minseok. Carefully taking Minseok's hands in his own, Zitao's guides them back down to the row of buckles. "Keep going."

Minseok seems nervous himself now, but he opens each buckle, smooths out each strap before moving on to the next.

When the buckles are all undone, the front of Zitao's leather armor open, Minseok looks up at him. Nothing needs to be said or asked, Zitao knows and he nods. Minseok presses his hands flat to Zitao's chest, feels him breathe, feels his heart. And then he slides one up, takes Zitao by the back of the neck and he dips down, meets Minseok halfway.

The kiss is slow like all the others. They separate for a breath and Zitao can't do anything but look into Minseok's eyes; his breath catches in his throat again. Minseok smiles at him and pulls him into another kiss, holding his cheeks now.

With sudden need and urgency, Zitao reaches for the two sides of the armor, but Minseok reaches down and catches his wrists. They stop kissing, breathing heavier, and Zitao thinks that he's done something wrong.

"No, let me," Minseok says and lets go of his wrists, but takes claim on Zitao's shoulders and works the leather down his arms. When he turns to lay it aside, Zitao takes in one big breath and his head spins, his pulse races.

Zitao's only standing in his plain jerkin now and takes another deep breath, hoping to crush his nerves under the weight of it. It doesn't, but that's alright. Minseok doesn't say anything about it, but he seems to notice and stalls, kissing Zitao again, his hands pressed against Zitao's ribcage. Zitao doesn't mind, even raises his own hands to Minseok's waist.

He's not at all ready for Minseok's fingers to slip up under the material of his jerkin and he flinches, his stomach flexing.

Minseok looks up to him, his eyes wide. "All right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"There's no reason for you to apologize," he insists, pressing his hands to Zitao's sides just above his hips. He doesn't reach for the hem again and doesn't slide his hands under it either. "Maybe you should take it off?"

Zitao nods, looking away from Minseok's eyes as he reaches for the bottom hem himself; there's a tremble under his skin that turns worse as he lifts the jerkin up. He stands to his full height, his shoulder blades pulled together and down, his back straight. It's the strongest front he has.

"May I touch you?"

He nods. Minseok reaches for Zitao, sharp eyes on him.

He's fully braced for the touch and when Minseok finally touches him—both of his hands sliding up and down Zitao's waist before settling above his hips—it wakes the fire in him again. Minseok leans forward and kisses the center of his chest, trails up to a sharp clavicle.

"Minseok." It's practically a moan and Minseok freezes, his mouth pressed against Zitao's skin. Zitao feels much hotter now and he's not sure if it's from arousal or embarrassment. Minseok says nothing about it, just continues to press closed-mouthed kisses to Zitao's skin. Another moan slips out when Minseok presses a kiss to the left of his throat, both hands sliding around and pressing against his back, pressing them closer.

Zitao allows Minseok to do as he pleases, fuzzyheaded and too hot. As Minseok kisses up higher—standing up on his toes to reach, Zitao is sure—Zitao moans in satisfaction, repeatedly whispering, "Minseok, please."

He's not even sure what he's asking for, but Minseok hums, his lips pressed just under the curve of Zitao's jaw.

"Will you take these off?" Minseok brushes his fingers around the hem of Zitao's trousers, tugs them faintly. Gasping softly at the touch, Zitao nods, reaches to undo the lacings. His fingers tremble and he becomes more nervous, feeling embarrassment warm and thick in his stomach. But Minseok, now standing flat on his feet, continues kissing him and calms the hummingbird-like fluttering of his heart.

He slides his hands inside his trousers, pushes them down until they're past his thighs and can fall around his feet. Minseok's hands slide over the newly bared skin, his fingers fit tight and hot around Zitao's hips, slide down his thighs; he hums, squeezing the muscles, and Zitao flushes.

He's waiting for more, waiting for Minseok to start stripping away his clothes too, but Minseok continues to touch him, conveniently ignoring his cock.

"Minseok," he whines, pinching his face pitifully as he motions toward Minseok's clothes. Following his hands, Minseok withdraws his touch and looks down at his clothes.

"Do you want to take them off?" He's smirking now, but he doesn't wait for an answer. Doesn't wait to see if Zitao will actually start to undress him. He takes the front of his foreign robe and pulls the knot in the cinch free. Zitao's breath hitches nervously.

Both sides of the robe fall open and he lets it slide off his shoulders, pulls the thin tunic he had on underneath over his head.

Zitao isn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe it's the strongly defined musculature of Minseok's stomach that throws him off or maybe his chest. Warmth bursts in the pit of Zitao's stomach and he reaches out to touch Minseok, slides his hands up Minseok's stomach, traces his thumbs under the muscles of his chest.

Minseok laughs. Zitao flinches, blushes.

"You can touch," Minseok tells him, taking his hands and bringing them back. After a deep, shuddering breath, Zitao moves his hands higher, kisses Minseok again. And Minseok pulls him forward, their skin pressed together. Hot, too hot. That heat claws underneath Zitao's skin and he burns, moans, when Minseok rolls his hips forward.

"Please."

Minseok falters and his hips still.

"What do you want?" Minseok's voice is gruff, hoarse, and it makes Zitao bite into his bottom lip. And when Zitao doesn't answer him, he demands, "Tell me what you want, Zitao."

"I want you," Zitao says simply, hooking his fingers inside Minseok's trousers and tugging.

Minseok steps back and works his trousers open, keeping his eyes on Zitao the entire time; it makes Zitao blush. When Minseok's trousers are off and he kicks them aside, Zitao is still looking at him, even as something tells him to look away.

Minseok's cock is the perfect length, the perfect thickness, hard and flushed red. Blushing brightly, warmly, Zitao thinks it would fit perfectly against his palm. He looks away then, biting his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid.

"Something wrong, my Prince?" There's a teasing in Minseok's voice that makes Zitao raise his head again, makes him scowl playfully. Although, Minseok calling him my Prince sends something very hot and sweet sinking down in his belly, wrapping around his cock. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a moan when Minseok unexpectedly reaches out and touches his cock.

As Minseok presses Zitao's cock up against his belly, rubs him with an open palm, he pulls Zitao in for a kiss and Zitao is glad because he definitely would've been embarrassingly loud.

They part and Zitao moans, looking down to avoid Minseok's eyes and to see Minseok's hand on his cock.

But Minseok stops moving his hand, demands, "Look at me, Zitao."

Minseok's eyes are intense, narrowed, and Zitao wants to look away but he can't.

"Please," Zitao says like he had earlier, but now it's more urgent, clipped, tight. Now he's willing to actually beg for more of Minseok's touch.

Minseok suddenly stops touching him and he makes an embarrassing frustrated noise. With both hands coming up to Zitao's chest, Minseok gives him a gentle push backwards, whispers, "Bed."

And that's when Zitao really becomes nervous because the reality of this hadn't really sunk in. He still falls back against the bed, though, and forces himself to be still as Minseok straddles him, looks him up and down, over and over.

Not sure what to do, Zitao reaches out and he sweeps his hand up the inside of Minseok's thigh. The skin is soft, but the muscle firm, and when Zitao has nowhere left to touch there, he skims his finger across Minseok's balls, runs his thumb up the underside of his cock.

Minseok exhales, breath shaky.

Zitao touches the tip, precome sticky on his finger, and he traces down again until it's too dry.

When he stops and looks up, Minseok is watching him with dark eyes and he blushes.

"Do you have any oils?" If Zitao wasn't already red in the face, he would've been after that. Both of his hands cover his face. He nods, peeking through his fingers at Minseok when he hears chuckles. "Where are they?"

"In the table beside the bed," Zitao says, words muffled by the heels of his hands.

He can hear Minseok pulling the drawer open quietly and he hears a soft pop as the small jar is opened. But when he looks between his fingers, Minseok's not dipping into it yet. He worries in that short time that he's done something wrong.

The jar is set aside. Minseok slides his hands up Zitao's wrists, wraps his fingers around them and gives them a gentle tug to pull them away from Zitao's face. Zitao swallows hard because Minseok is looking at him with adoration and heat and it's all so much. There's a flutter in Zitao's chest that quickness further, racing along the lines of his ribs.

But there's nothing to worry about because Minseok leans over him and kisses him. It's slow and deep this time, mouths slotting together perfectly now they've matched a rhythm. Passion swells up inside Zitao and suddenly he's wondering how he's managed to keep his hands off Minseok. He wraps his arms around Minseok's waist, pulls Minseok down because he needs to feel Minseok against him.

Zitao is reluctant to let go when Minseok breaks the kiss, starts to push himself up.

Minseok gives him a smile and kisses him quickly, briefly again. "You have to let me go if you want more."

And he does want more, he wants so much more. Arousal and panic rush through his veins, make his heart raise and his lungs contract. But Zitao wants this. Minseok swirls his fingers inside the jar and they come out wet with the thick oil. They're intimidating, but Zitao doesn't say anything.

With his clean hand, Minseok wedges his fingers beneath Zitao's leg and gives him a tug up. “Raise your knees.”

It's easily said from Minseok. He is so comfortable here, naked like this, and Zitao practically envies his experience as he slowly bends his knees.

The first touch comes soon after and the oil is cool on his skin and the feeling of Minseok finger against his hole makes him tense, makes him shudder.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

Zitao's bringing his hands back up to his face immediately, hiding and chuckling in embarrassment into his palms. As if to distract him from his embarrassment, fingers graze up the length of Zitao's cock. And, if that was what Minseok was intending to do, it worked because, his embarrassment be damned, he reaches down and takes hold of Minseok’s hand.

“Yes, a few times.”

Minseok's fingers are smaller than his own, not as knobby, shorter, but they still make him squirm as Minseok cautiously slides one in. And Zitao can't find it in himself to be embarrassed anymore, not when Minseok is doing this to him. He releases Minseok's hand, presses his open palm against the silky sheets instead.

Minseok is patient, stretches him thoroughly, until Zitao is squirming, breaths heavy. When he's finally had enough, he bears down against Minseok's finger and says, “Minseok.”

They need not say anymore after that. Minseok raises his eyes and gives Zitao a questioning look to which Zitao nods.

A second finger has him shifting away, sucking in a breath. Minseok is ever careful, stills and allows Zitao to lower his hips as he sees fit. Once lying flat on the bed again, two fingers inside him, Zitao exhales and he nods again to let Minseok know he can move again. Zitao can't quiet the moan that leaves his mouth when he does, though.

Suddenly, a powerful pleasure seizes Zitao and he arches upwards until his muscles burn with strain; he's almost completely ignorant to the ache of a third finger pushing in. And, when it fades, he hears Minseok chuckling, feels him shift his fingers again, gently, close to, yet not touching the spot they'd pressed before.

“Fuck, Minseok,” Zitao whispers, voice gruff with arousal.

“Alright?”

Minseok's eyes are on Zitao and his free hand strokes his own cock. It's a sight that has Zitao feeling impossibly more warm, his cock jerking against his belly and leaving his skin sticky. He manages a nod, arching again and sneaking a hand down to touch his cock. The effect it has on Minseok shows plainly and it makes Zitao feel proud of himself for overcoming his embarrassment.

Zitao groans as Minseok withdraws his fingers to get more oil.

He knows how this works, knows it's definitely necessary for Minseok to do this, but when he feels Minseok's pinky finger pushing in, he raises his head. “Another?”

Minseok smirks a little. “Another.”

The little bit of added stretch is enough to make Zitao groan again. He squirms in attempt to alleviate the ache, his thighs trembling, and the hand on his cock going still. Minseok slides a hand up Zitao's thigh, gives him a squeeze.

“I'm alright,” he whispers. Minseok gives him a look, narrows his eyes like he doesn't quite believe Zitao, but he gives in after Zitao lets out a whine. The ache passes and Zitao's insides knot up with pleasure, his body jolting and mind going blank again when Minseok curls his fingers.

“Oh! Please!” What little patience he had vanishes. He reaches for Minseok, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing Minseok's thighs.

“What do you want, my love?”

Zitao purses his lips, knocks his knee purposefully into Minseok's arm. “You know very well what I want. I want you.”

That makes Minseok's eyes flutter shut, makes him heave a sigh. And then he's taking his fingers out and rubbing them on his cock, reaching for more oil to smear across his skin. It catches the light and Zitao stares blatantly.

Minseok leans over him slowly, braced only on one hand, keeping his oily palm off the bed sheets. He hesitates and presses a kiss to Zitao's temple, lingers with his mouth against Zitao's skin.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but he's already lining up with Zitao's entrance. Zitao lets out a pleased hum, tilts his hips down greedily.

In the faintest of moves, Minseok leans away and Zitao's cock throbs in protest. Zitao raises both hands from the sheets, scrabbles for purchase, for more touch; he scrapes his dull nails across Minseok's skin in his haste. “Minseok, please.”

“Alright.” The moment the word leaves his mouth, he pushes his hips forward, slowly sinks in until Zitao gasps, tenses up. He moves his oily hand to touch Zitao's cock, swipes his fingers up the length and gives it a full stroke.

It's a few moments before Zitao is relaxed. He feels so utterly full. But when Minseok moves his hips again, he realizes that hardly more than the tip is inside and he lets out a weak, defeated noise. Minseok's grip tightens and the next noise he makes is a pitiful moan. He presses his palms against Minseok's shoulder blades, pulls him closer.

His body tightens with each shallow thrust and Minseok pauses, pants, and shudders some. Zitao admires his strength to hold back.

As if to distract them both, Minseok kisses him again, shifts his hips gently forward. Zitao whines as Minseok's hips press against his ass firmly. Minseok's body sags some, relaxes, and he parts from Zitao to hum out a deep moan.

“Alright,” Minseok asks, sounding ragged and worn.

Zitao nods, but it's accompanied by a soft whimper as Minseok shifts. Another kiss is pressed to his temple, and then, lower down on his jaw and neck. Minseok curls his fingers around Zitao's cock again, stroking him until he's hard again, until he squirms and reaches down to push Minseok's hand away.

“Can I move?”

And Zitao nods again, taking in a deep breath completely prepared for it to feel as if he's being ripped in two. But it doesn't. It's not entirely unpleasant, he finds, the first few thrusts taking his breath away. What had been pain fades away into a barely-there ache with each thrust.

Minseok had begun shallow and slow, his forehead resting on the pillow beside Zitao's head, but he gradually becomes hurried and breathless. A groan escapes him and it triggers one from Zitao and, after that, neither hold back.

The first hard thrust has Zitao seeing stars, possibly shouting Minseok's name, and instantly craving more. But Minseok has frozen completely, is barely even breathing anymore. He carefully pushes himself up and he gives Zitao a questioning, concerned look.

“Please, don't stop,” Zitao whimpers. A wicked smile slowly appears on Minseok's face and his eyes pinch in the exact image of mischief.

Minseok doesn't immediately fall back into rhythm, though. He continues shallowly, a slow rhythm that Zitao can't stand, can't take, won't take. Grabbing at Minseok again, Zitao tries to pull him closer even as Minseok slowly works his knees underneath Zitao's ass and pushes himself higher.

When Minseok's settled, he's sitting back on his heels and he holds Zitao's thighs, holds them open, and the way he's thrusting just barely grazes that place that grates Zitao's sanity. Zitao makes noises he should probably be embarrassed about, but he's too needy to care. Above him, Minseok is just as far gone. He groans, squeezes his eyes shut, even tips his head back and Zitao revels in the sight when can keep his own eyes open.

Minseok's every move becomes tighter, less fluid, even his grip on Zitao's legs tightens. Zitao watches through half opened eyes in amazement, relies on the feeling of it when he's not looking.

Finally, Minseok's grip on one thigh goes slack and he drops his open palm to Zitao's cock, teases him briefly before wrapping fully around him. His pleasure mounts all at once, but it takes the experienced twist of a wrist and a perfectly angled thrust to push him over the edge. He comes across his belly and groans and squirms against Minseok until his senses are released.

Yet he's so lost in the feeling of his own pleasure, that he hardly processes what's happening in the moments leading up to Minseok's. But he realizes when Minseok comes, feels it, hears it, sees it when his eyes snap open in surprise. And he grabs at Minseok again, slides his fingers up Minseok's sides just to feel more of him as he lands a few final hard thrusts.

Minseok sits back and Zitao watches his chest heave, watches the tension slowly bleed out of his body. Making a low, needy noise, Zitao curls his fingers around Minseok's sides and gives him a little tug until Minseok smiles and starts to move. Zitao tries to hold back a wince when Minseok pulls out, but he fails.

“Sorry,” Minseok whispers as he lowers himself down beside Zitao. And Zitao moves with him, turns onto his side even though he feels disgusting with his hair stuck to the back of his neck and shoulders and come leaking from his ass onto the sheets. He winces again.

Zitao shakes his head. “Unavoidable. All of it.”

They lie there in silence, just looking at one another. Zitao feels like he should say something, like he's supposed to say something, but he can't think of anything. Instead of saying something, he scoots closer and Minseok easily wraps his arms around Zitao and tucks Zitao under his chin.

 

 

Sehun smirks. “So you finally got between Minseok's thighs?”

Without blushing even just a little bit, Zitao looks over at his best friend and chuckles.

“Actually, he got between mine.”

Sehun's jaw falls open and Zitao laughs.


End file.
